Frog PRINCEss
by Oceans in Hand
Summary: Hisoka is a prince in a faraway land. One day he loses something precious, and makes a deal with a dog to get it back. Will he hold up his end of the bargain? How does this one go again...? TsuzukiHisoka, Fairy Tale AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It seems like it's a common thing for people to pick a place and declare, determinedly, "I'll go there someday." Currently, the place most people are referring to when they say this is Madahn'dre.

Madahn'dre is a city webbed with canals and pierced by domed buildings of sculpted metal, colored glass and semi-precious stone. It's a wealthy city, populated by charitable merchants and honorable thieves, ordinary folk who work hard enough to understand the finer points and little enough to enjoy them. In the center of this city of stone, metal and glass, a palace rises out of the ground like a thorn. It is the home of the royal family and few privileged nobles, and is reverently known as the High Place.

The Place was built by King Markus III nearly five hundred years before. The official reason for its construction is no doubt buried beneath tax records and trade certificates in the main library, but there is a legend that the people are very fond of, that the King commissioned the build out of love for his foreign Queen. The High Place is made of smoky glass bricks and great stones of pink marble, with doors of oil-slick obsidian and hallways and corridors with jade tile floors and bands of gold running the length of the walls.

It is summertime when this story takes place, and summertime in Madahn'dre is indeed a wonderful thing. The sun is up more often than the moon, and the light is strong. The air is sticky, thick and heavy with the scent of flowers and baked sweets and sweat, and the people's clothes stick to their bodies like serpent's skin. A fair takes place annually to see off the last days of the season, called the Festival of Light. Inns and motels are filling more and more each day with travelers ready to celebrate with the rest of the people, and a certain excitement is becoming noticeable in the atmosphere.

::::

Prince Hisoka wasn't really one for the season. He had allergies; flowers made him sneeze. His pale skin would sooner turn purple than tan- he burned like rice paper over fire. And the baked goods, well…too much sugar. He really didn't appreciate sweets. He sat, staring moodily out of an open window with his head in his hand, rolling a golden ball the size of orange along the ledge.

"Oh- there you are. Master Hisoka, you're late for your history lesson."

Hisoka didn't look at the speaker. "It's too hot for history." He answered monotonously.

The servant, one of higher standing, pushed his glasses further up his nose. "It's only going to get hotter." He replied, his own voice flat and unsympathetic.

"Mmgh."

"Perhaps we could arrange a bribe?"

Hisoka cocked a brow, interested despite himself. "…A bribe? What do you have in mind?"

"You're currently going over the Markuinese War of Tyara, with Master Yuo,"

"Yes."

"A field trip, then." Tatsumi fingered his glasses again. "To the Tyara wishing well, where the War began."

"The Great War of Fire." Hisoka muttered. His fingers idly rubbed over his bottom lip, his expression thoughtful, the golden ball still beneath his palm. He turned away from the window. His green eyes sparked with a kind of feeling the servant knew many of his people would not believe he possessed. While it was true that the King's only son was a cantankerous thing, crabby at the best of times and sarcastic to a fault, there _was_ good in him. One only had to endure his company for long enough to see it.

Unfortunately, this was a bit too much to ask of most.

"I think I could be talked into it…" He mumbled. He passed the ball nervously from hand to hand. "When would we leave?"

Tatsumi allowed himself a small smile. "Tomorrow morning. Would you prefer to go by horseback or carriage?"

The prince wrinkled his nose. "Horseback. The wishing well isn't so far from us, and a gallop's wind will feel good in this heat."

"Very well sir." He backed out of the room with a bow. "I shall begin making the arrangements. Do not forget that your father wishes your company tonight for the evening meal."

"…right."

::::

He was interested in history, no matter what Yuo Tatiko said behind the safety of stone walls. The state of the Place's second library was a testament to the fact, its books piled carefully on the floor around stuffed armchairs and on top of tables. Under the tables, even, in a precise order understood only by the prince himself. It had been a long time since a servant had put any of those books back on the shelves- no one ever visited the library to care if they were where they belonged, and Hisoka only took them down again anyway.

Then there was that golden ball of his, that toy. Watari, the resident alchemist had temporarily become a gold-smith as a hobby years before, the small bauble being his one success. And even then, to call it a mediocre piece was being excessively polite. Tatsumi hadn't bothered with that, of course; he'd told the crazy wizard exactly what he thought of it when he first found it shoved beneath his nose. A piece of junk.

But despite the fact that it wasn't perfectly round, or that its surface was pitted and dimpled, the prince had happily received it from the dejected man. In five years, the small globe of precious metal had rarely been seen away from the boy's hands.

Tatsumi and the alchemist had theorized about it before, about why their prince carried the thing like a security blanket. Watari had suggested that it was his worry-stone, and the manservant had found this an acceptable presumption, having none better of his own to offer. The little prince _did_ have a great deal to worry about.

Like his father the King, and the constant risk that the unstable monarch would someday tire of his son and name another as his heir, as he'd threatened to do so many times in the past. Really, the boy was a bit disagreeable at times, but he didn't deserve such obvious dislike. What's more, the King didn't trust him. Not a bit. As said, he was dangerously unsound, paranoid, cruel, quick with his rulings and merciless in his decisions. It was only because day-to-day happenings were handled by honest officials that the city continued to run smoothly.

If, the King _did _decide to force Hisoka to give up his claim, Tatsumi mused, the Queen certainly wouldn't raise a hand to stop him. A useless woman, she was; a stain on the history of a city as famous for its outspoken Queens as its aesthetic beauty. She was a foreign woman of high standing from a tropical land far to the south, and was considered a perfect bride by the King's, and her people's standards. She did not speak unless spoken to; she did not challenge her husband's authority. She did not raise her voice, her hand; she didn't even raise her head.

The King loved her.

Tatsumi wondered if she held any thought worth the effort of speech. A mean thought, one that Watari would surely scold him for, but he did truly pity the woman.

The manservant sighed as he left the kitchens after telling the cook to prepare a lunch for the following day. Dear, dear, the High Place was a tangle of conflict, wasn't it?

::::

The King insisted on using the largest and grandest of the dining rooms that night, as apposed to the smaller, more suitable family room. The floor of the First Dining Room was made of shiny, cool black title that pleasantly reflected the clear light from the enormous chandelier overhead. Burgundy and crimson striped drapes stamped with royal crest hung in the corners of the great room, and over the doorways that led to the kitchens and servant's stair. People of note came and went through two tall doors made of opaque glass. It took two men-at-arms to heave them open.

The King himself sat at the head of the table, directly opposite of the doors. The Queen was at his left, the Prince at his right.

Hisoka found the conversation decidedly lacking.

The meal, composed of a full five courses, was as grand as the room, and as inappropriate. The first dish was a bowl of fruit cuts in a sticky, cloying sauce that burned Hisoka's mouth. He tried to ease the discomfort with of gulp of wine, but nearly choked on the sugary tang of buklesweed.

_Sweet, _he thought, scowling hatefully at the crystal stemware, the food, at everything. _Too sweet._

The second course was a slab of dark bread, with berries and cubes of chocolate baked into it. It was heavy, rich, and difficult to swallow.

And, again. Sweet.

The King's voice droned on in the background, occasionally spiking drastically in pitch for a few words before returning to its usual mumbling tone. Leaning over his third-course bowl of hartlend burr soup, muttering and picking apart of a piece of hard bread, he appeared much older and weaker than he actually was. The ninety-fifth Madahn'drein King was a strong man, with the heart of a horse and eyes like a falcon's.

Hisoka's mother sat at his left, sipping meekly from her soup, eyes downcast. Occasionally she would pause in between spoonfuls and utter a feeble sound of acknowledgement, or agreement that always seemed to go unheard. She wore a beautiful, midnight dark dress stitched sporadically with silver beads. The effect was the stunning, almost hypnotic illusion of stars in a night sky.

The young Prince was miserable in the drafty First Dining Room. Hisoka had anticipated the family room- or, more specifically, the great round fireplace that occupied the center of it. The thin clothing he wore wasn't meant to fend off the cold, and, had he been more adequately informed, he would've chosen differently.

_What's more,_ Hisoka sulked, stirring his soup gloomily. _My stomach's already nibbling at my spleen; one gurgle and father will find a new fault in me. I can hear it now. He'll sit up and say something like, _'Starving yourself, boy? There are quicker ways to die.'

_Bah. _

::::

Tatsumi stood, ever vigilant, behind one of the carnelian drapes, his teeth on edge, arms crossed over his front and eyes aching from prolonged strain. He didn't notice the alchemist at his elbow until he leaned forward to nudge the curtain further aside. Watari gave a low whistle.

"Family dinner, eh?"

The manservant grunted.

"King's being awfully quiet…" He made a considering noise, pulling back his hand with a sigh. "Poor kid."

"He'll be all right, in the end."

"In the end, you say, but His Highness is a young man." Watari observed sorrowfully. "I don't doubt the boy's strength, but he's lucky to have lasted this long."

Tatsumi's chest rose and fell with a heavy breath. His eyes flickered closed for a brief moment, watering from relief.

"Are you planning to go with us tomorrow?" He asked tiredly.

Watari blinked, looking up at the slightly taller man. "Tomorrow? Where are you going?"

* * *

**I've been sitting on this story for awhile, I wanted to finish it before I put it out, but it's _almost_ done, and I'm excited so I'm jumping the gun :D**

**Review? What do you think?**

**-Oceans**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Hisoka had been away from the palace for little more than an hour, and already his nose was itching and his shirt was soaked through with sweat. The horse's gait disagreed with him- he'd yet to pin down a harmonizing rhythm, and the tingle on the back of his neck suggested sunburn.

He couldn't fathom how, in spite of it all, he was enjoying himself.

Perhaps it was because this was the first outing he'd taken in months_,_ or because Watari's balm kept biting bugs with the ability to ruin the day at arm's length. Or because, as he'd predicted, the slight wind from the ride did wonders against the heat. Whatever the reason, Hisoka thought the scenery helped his good mood as well.

The woodland that surrounded Madahn'dre was as much a jungle as a deciduous forest. It was filled with small trees, large ones, ferns and vines and flowers. There were beasts with fur and brightly colored skin, ones with fangs and others with poisonous glands. The way was treacherous with the roots of aged trees erupting from the ground like big snakes in the water. Everything was green and dripping and singing with life.

And if the view didn't provide adequate entertainment, the argument going on around him certainly did. Tatsumi and Watari had begun squabbling before even Hisoka had started sneezing, and had yet to pause, much less stop. Hisoka didn't know why the manservant had bothered to invite the other along. He guessed there was some kind of underlying feeling there. Considering how often they sought each other's company, it was ridiculous how much they argued.

Probably the only thing more ridiculous was what they fought _about._ Take, for example, the current dispute, about lunch.

"…in the _middle_ of the _summer_. It's stupid!"

"It's _iced_ coffee though." Tatsumi pointed out.

Watari bounced excitedly, earning a dirty look from his mount. "But it's still. Coffee. Why not fruit juice? Or water?"

Both the alchemist and the manservant were difficult to read. It was impossible for a passing acquaintance to correctly guess at their feelings. But Hisoka had known the two men for most of his life, and could see now that Tatsumi, no matter how coolly he replied, was the more annoyed of them. Watari _looked_ furious, but was in truth having fun.

"Hisoka, do _you_ see anything wrong with iced coffee on a hot day?"

Damn. He hated it when he was dragged into their tiffs. And it was usually Tatsumi who did it.

"I'd rather thought that was the point of it." He remarked carefully, with an air of disinterest. Watari's face turned red.

"Well, I-"

As the discussion heated up, Hisoka pulled a map from his saddlebag and busied himself with determining how much longer to their destination.

::::

The Tyara wishing well was a decrepit structure placed in a large, rectangular clearing. The crumbling lip of it came up to the horses' chests, and the mouth yawned wide enough for Hisoka to lie flat inside. The well itself was filled with dirt, and stretched barely five feet into the earth.

Hisoka peered down to the bottom as Tatsumi commenced the accompanying lesson.

"The Markuinese War of Tyara, more commonly referred to as the Great War of Fire for the first use of _hiya,_ or fire arrows, was between the Markuis Empire and the Tyaran river people towards of the end of 5 E.e. Because of the competence of the _hiya_ and their uncanny ability to start a fire absolutely anywhere, the war was quickly won by the Tyarans. However the victory was short lived, as the Empire was by no means weakened by their defeat, and returned the following year armed with flame retarded equipment and water."

Watari snorted in the background. Hisoka looked up from his scrutiny.

"That was a joke," He said in a stunned tone.

"Yes well, no need to make something of it." A flash of sunlight on Tatsumi's lenses hid his eyes as he cleared his throat, turning the page. "With their most devastating weapon virtually useless, and with no more military geniuses forthcoming after the death of Uhlarra Met'mosuses, the Tyarans fell after a year of desperate combat, and their territory was absorbed into the Empire.

"Years later, when Dariyon II took power the Empire suffered of neglect. Enemies on all sides began to pick at the borders, reclaiming territory taken years before. A long line of incompetent rulers resulted in the fall of the Empire after an age of decline. A group of reformers known hence after as the Ring of Governors saved the larger cities and parts of the innermost territory from the neighboring countries, and split the spoils amongst themselves. This agreement resulted in the formation of the kingdoms Ayara, Tur'smont, Dur'sleh, and Kaeira, to which our fair Madahn'dre belongs."

With a final sigh, Tatsumi snapped the book closed. "And now, young master, I shall help our dear village idiot with preparing lunch. We will resume the lesson after the meal."

Hisoka nodded his affirmation, watching as the manservant moved to act on his words. Watari looked up from spreading a blanket, informing the other "I heard that," and earning a smack with the history book for his trouble. Hisoka chuckled lowly, turning back to the well.

A moment later, a brown blur darted into the clearing and to the blanket, where the two men where in the process of laying out the food. Tatsumi stepped forward to shoo it away, while Watari laughed and Hisoka watched, but the animal ignored him. It barked once, ran around the manservant, and snatched up a cut of meat in its jaws.

"Oi!" Tatsumi lunged for the dog and missed. Watari's giggling cut off as he made his own dive with no more success.

The dog paused at the line of trees and threw a glance over its shoulder, watching curiously with wide eyes as both men cursed and struggled to untangle themselves.

"You mangy-" Watari growled as he wiggled free.

With a shout, Tatsumi finally got to his feet and both men started after the animal. The dog gave a high yip and disappeared into the forest, two extremely mad palace servants hot on its heels.

Hisoka sat perched precariously on the edge of the well, laughing in dazed disbelief with one hand over his mouth and the other holding his stomach. Calming down, he plucked Tatsumi's abandoned book from the tall grass and flipped.

He read aloud, under his breathe, "The location of the start of the Great War is quite possibly the Tyara wishing well, a place that since 27 E.e. has belonged to the country of Kaeira. In the days of Tyarans, the well was the center of religious culture. Political talks, marriages, births and deaths of significance took place by the well. It came to pass that a diplomat of the Empire was passing through the territory, and took a liking to the well. He claimed it as his own, and when the Tyarans fought, called his armies and allies to his aid…"

He set the book aside with a sigh, pulled the golden ball from a pocket and tossed it high into the air.

On the fourth toss, the dog tumbled out of the trees a few feet from him, the slice of meat still hanging from its mouth. Hisoka gave a startled cry and tumbled backwards into the well, his foot knocking the ball away.

"Aah-! Ouch!" Hisoka whined, rubbing his backside.

A bark sounded from above him. Hisoka shot a glare at the dog. "Mutt. It's all your- oh no! My ball!"

He clambered out of the wall and ran his hands through the grass frantically, chanting, "Oh no, oh no, oh _no._"

"What's wrong?"

"The ball- my golden…what? W-why are you…?"

The dog sat in front of him, watching interestedly, its head cocked. "I asked, what's wrong?"

"But…b-but you're a dog! An animal!" Hisoka cried, scrambling away.

"That's not very nice!" The dog whimpered, pawing at its snout.

"I…well…" he blushed. "I'm sorry…I, my ball. My golden ball. Its gone-"

"I'll find it!" The dog leapt up, its tail beating furiously. "I will I will! But if I do, will you take me to your home?"

"To my home?"

"Yes! And feed me and bathe me, and let me sleep by your side?

"By my…oh, what am I saying? Of course- yes, yes! Find my ball, and I'll give you all of that."

"Yip! Just a minute!" And the dog, abandoning the meat, charged back into the brush.

Hisoka fell back onto his bruised behind, his jaw hanging loose. The dog returned before he moved. "I got it for you! This golden ball, right?"

The words came out garbled for the trinket nestled among its teeth, but still understandable. Hesitantly, Hisoka extended his hand and caught the ball as the dog dropped it. Leaning back, he studied the animal.

A mutt, it must be, for it certainly did not resemble any breed he'd ever read about or seen. Sporting a thick, dark tan coat in need of a brushing, the animal was probably medium-sized. Its tail bent over its back in a huge curl, and its ears stood erect and pointed.

_I don't want to be saddled with this…cursed…animal. _Hisoka thought, paying special attention to his outward expression. _I told him- it- that I would take care of it, but…_

Thinking fast, he palmed the ball. "I'll hold up my end of the bargain, but you'll have to hide. I'll come for you later to bring home, but you've angered my…friends. You can't let them see you. Stay here, all right?"

The dog nodded, jumped up and reclaimed his stolen cut. "Tomorrow, maybe?" it asked through the mouthful.

Hisoka winced, but immediately wiped his face clean. "Tomorrow."

"Okay…um, my name is Tsuzuki, by the way."

The Prince smiled thinly, the lie already grinding on his conscience. "Mr. Tsuzuki, I am Hisoka."

* * *

******Enter Tsuzuki! :D And you get a little bit of history.**

**-Oceans**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The lesson on the Markuinese War was never completed. Tatsumi and Watari returned eventually to the clearing, looking less than presentable after their run through the woods, and in bad spirits over their empty hands. It seemed Tatsumi in particular had dreamed up some rather colorful uses for the dog's hide. The group ate what was left of their meal on horseback while returning to the High Place as Hisoka finished reading the chapter. During the ride Tatsumi fumed in silence, and Watari smiled good-humoredly at passerby. Hisoka did not mention the dog, or their conversation.

He hated lying, but what other choice had there been? Even _if_ there was a way to rationalize adopting a talking dog, his father would have had a field day…

The name Tsuzuki was disturbingly familiar though. He'd heard it before, more than once, but couldn't for the life of him remember _when_, or where. After finishing the chapter in the book, he puzzled over it until they reached the High Place. As he passed through the gilded gates, Hisoka shook his head clear, and didn't think about it anymore. He ate a quiet dinner in the second library, read for hours, and went to bed.

::::

Tatsumi shook him awake the next morning.

"Young master, you have lessons in diplomacy with Mr. Konoe after breakfast." He informed the groggy boy, pulling back the curtains in a sharp motion. Hisoka gave a feeble cry as sunlight flooded the bedchamber. "He has humbly requested that you met him at the city entrance when you are first able. Apparently, he wishes to conduct a…hands-on lesson."

Hisoka chuckled at the distaste in the manservant's voice. Field trips had apparently gone on the severe man's blacklist after yesterday's mishap. "He intends to stimulate his sweet tooth, I think."

"Yes, that _does_ seem rather likely." Tatsumi sighed, consenting. He stood in the center of the room, awkward now that he had nothing to do with his hands. Hisoka smiled at him, and staggered out of bed, knuckling his back.

"Goodness, I need to remember to use the armchairs more…" He mumbled, shuffling towards his wardrobe.

"Reading on the floor again, sir?" Tatsumi quipped gently.

"The floor, the stools…" The city, was it? Something light, then. "Anything, everything that doesn't support my back and neck."

"Hm. Well, you know how to fix that, then. I've left an allowance on the table by the door, enough for lunch and a few other things. I do not know how long Konoe intends to keep you away, so I hope it is enough."

"I'm sure it will be. If it isn't, I'll just have it charged to the palace." Hisoka waved him off as he finished dressing and strode to the door.

In the entrance hall, Konoe greeted him with a nod. He clamped a heavy hand on his shoulder and shook gently, grinning widely as they started into the city. "We're in for a treat today, m'boy! As you know, our beloved metropolis is filling in preparation for the Festival. Craftsmen's Alley is an absolute _cesspool_ of language and culture. And customs." The man shot him a meaningful look, throwing an arm over his shoulder, eye twinkling. "Always customs."

Hisoka sighed with good-humor, allowing himself to be led, if you will, into the maw of the dragon.

The city was a mess of heat and noise. Voices clamoring, things banging, everyone trying to heard over everyone else. The streets were clogged with crowds of people, sweating, emitting body heat, and contributing in no small part to the dry air of the season. The smells that swirled in the breeze, though not all unpleasant, nearly overpowered the Prince's nose. He gagged. Konoe grinned at him.

Craftsmen's Alley was just as its name implied; a long, narrow road that sloped downhill for nearly a mile, each side lined with stalls set up by hard working, prideful men and women. Fights and shouting matches were by no means uncommon among the variety of artists, but at the end of the day, it was no different than arguments between family members. The Alley was _usually_ filled with voices speaking foreign languages, merchants pushing imported wares. But, as Konoe had said, with the Festival around the metaphorical corner there were at least twice as many voices and wares. The man tugged him to a smiling northerner, and Hisoka's lesson began.

Several hours of accented conversations and miscommunications later, he was exhausted, and Konoe was beaming. The pair stopped for lunch, and settled under an umbrella to eat. They'd purchased food from a vender; fried mushrooms and pieces of fruit sprinkled with seeds and sauce. Hisoka was cupping his paper cone, inhaling the heady scent and feeling the grease soak through the paper when he heard it.

A very, familiar bark.

His eyes opened, slowly, a dreadful feeling attacking his stomach as he looked toward the direction the sound had come from.

The dog, Tsuzuki, stood before him, tail wagging furiously, though not from happiness. The animal's tongue lolled from its open mouth as it panted, watching him with miserable, betrayed eyes.

Hisoka felt sick.

Konoe paused in his munching, seeming to sense the boy's distress. He looked up, glanced the dog and then back to Hisoka.

"You promised me," Tsuzuki whined, tail going still. "You promised, and then you left, and you said you'd come back, but you didn't!"

Hisoka gapped. "I- I-…I mean…"

"That wasn't very nice at _all!_ I did my part!"

"Hisoka," came the soft interruption, heard somehow over the din.

It was a question, he knew it. "I…told it that…that if it found my golden ball, when I lost it in the jungle, then I would…"

"Take me home!" The dog put in. Now its eyes were tipped in, accusingly.  
"…bring it home with me."

Konoe took an agonizingly slow bit and chewed, eyes fixing the Prince with a hawk-like stare, making the boy feel like he was balanced on an edge. There was more truth to the thought than Hisoka first realized.

At length, he said, "Did he bring it back?"

Hisoka flinched, and nodded.

Another long, long pause, during which the tutor took two more bits. Then he began, in a hard but careful voice, "Hisoka-"

"No." The Prince snapped in a shaking voice. "I did not intend to keep my promise. I lied."

Konoe's eyes hardened. "That's very disappointing, Your Highness."

Something curled up inside him. He made a mumbling noise, bending over his cone.

Tsuzuki whimpered, ears flat, its tail wound around its leg. He sniffed, something Hisoka hadn't known dogs could do. "I don't want to cause you trouble…b-but, you promised me…"

"No, you're right. The Prince gave his word, and he must _honor_ it." He shot him a look at the emphasis. Hisoka spared a second to wonder how his tutor accepted a talking dog in his stride. "And he will. I will personally see to it." He caught the boy's eyes firmly. "Today's lesson is concluded. We will return to the palace."

He smiled down at the dog. "The _three_ of us."

::::

Tatsumi glared down his nose at theanimal.

"And it's staying with us?" he asked, oh-so-clearly seeking contradiction rather than confirmation.

Konoe smiled cheerily. "Yup! And he's going to get a meal, a bath, and sleep with 'Soka, tonight!"

Watari stepped past the manservant, kneeling and offering a hand to the dog. He smiled down reassuringly. "Pleased to meet you again~!"

Tsuzuki hitched its lips away from its teeth in a doggy grin.

Hisoka noticed that it hadn't talked sense they'd left the Alley. He sighed.

"When's dinner?"

* * *

******Nothing to say about this one :)**

**-Oceans**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Hisoka was grumbling in his head. He was whining, pitching a royal fit (pardon the pun), and fending off crushing guilt. On the outside, though, he was eating thinly sliced strips of venison soaked in ginger sauce. Green eyes drifted over the articles of the room, lamps, drapes and cushions, books and papers, narrowing as they passed over the glare of the healthy fire from the carved hearth. Konoe's private suit was generously sized, and even though the three connected rooms were cluttered with the fifty-some year-old tutor's accumulated brickerbrack, the space was excessively comfortable.

Seated in a clean space of floor and supporting a dinner plate in his lap, Hisoka scowled barely at the companion by his side. The dog Tsuzuki crunched happily on a meaty bone there, closer to him than the Prince liked. Laying on his belly, the animal's curly tail thumped lightly, happily against the patterned carpet, and his eyes were squinted in the firelight.

Konoe himself lounged across a cracked leather armchair, detailing complicated court manners of neighboring lands in between bites. Hisoka paid him largely no mind.

"…ut few royals retain court magicians anymore. Words-Whisperers are such a shady lot! History has basically guarant_eed_ us that if there should be any kind of upstart youngling or rebellious cur, the swine will be found at his elbow, murmuring promises of glory and success, power. Look at what happened to the poor Tur'smont royals…"

The northern country's name cut through the irritable fog of the Prince's mind like an iced blade. Eyes rounded, his head shot up.

Konoe, in the act of bending a long bean into his mouth stopped, curious. "What?"

Hisoka blinked once, and again hard, releasing his plate to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I-I…I don't-…just go on."

"Mmh? Well, the King and Queen of Tur'smont weren't the most open-minded people you'd ever meet, but they sure meant well. Only had one son, Prince…by me, can't remember the boy's name…anyway, lad who had an unfortunate tangle with their Whisperer, ruthless bastard, and was lost. None's seen him in three years. Whisperer's gone, and the poor wretched Queen is struggling to hold together the land while the King's laid up with some mysterious infection."

"That's why Father's never sought one out," Hisoka brought one knee up to hold close to his chest. Tsuzuki's once energetic chomping had calmed to the occasional, sedated lick. He appeared to be falling to sleep, succumbing to the fire's spell.

Hisoka felt the same beckoning warmth in his bones already, and shivered against it.

::::

Konoe tracked down Tatsumi and bullied him into filling a tub with warm water in Hisoka's room. Grumbling, glaring and cursing venomously under his breath he did, but when Tsuzuki went to dip a paw in the tub, he loosed a high shriek and darted for the shadows beneath Hisoka's bed. The tutor swirled a finger in the bathwater and, discovering it to be in fact, deliberately icy cold, splashed a little wave at the imperious man. His front dripping, Hisoka sent him off to return with Watari.

The giggling Alchemist, fetched and delivered, bent and spoke a breathy chant over the water. Hisoka watched as steam began to rise, curling.

Konoe pushed a cut of sweet, herby-smelling soap and a rag, and nodded at the tub. He pointed an imperious finger down the to the dog, eyes focused squarely on the Prince, who winced. Tsuzuki blinked between the finger and Hisoka, his ears pricked worriedly.

The young Prince sighed, beat the side of the tub with his fingers. He flinched back when Tsuzuki leapt in with a delighted _yip!_.

Konoe watched as Hisoka got to his knees, pushed up his sleeves, and began to wash the dog.

He couldn't remember being prouder of the boy.

::::

Tsuzuki sat in awe of the size and softness of Hisoka's bed. The dog licked its chops and looked over, up at the Prince as he went about his before-bed business.

"This is your bed?"

Hisoka paused in pulling down his night shirt. "Yes." He answered tersely, fighting to keep the venom he felt from his voice.

"And we get to share it?" Tsuzuki braced its front paws on the edge.

"Yes."

"Can I get up on it?"

He didn't trust himself anymore. Hisoka only nodded once.

Tsuzuki did so and bounced back and forth, eventually decided on a space. It propped its head up on a pillow and watched Hisoka move through the room, putting out the lights and closing the curtains. Its curled tail thumped happily as the Prince approached and, moving with aching slowness, got into bed beside the animal.

Hisoka turned on his side and refused to look at the dog. He closed his eyes tightly and ground his teeth when it moved, resettling itself. For a time it was quiet, until Tsuzuki broke the silence.

"Thank you,"

And the fury that Hisoka had been suppressing for the night broke through. He shot up with a shout and, grabbing the dog by the scruff of its neck, dragged it off the bed.

"Get away! Go- leave! I _hate_ you!" He screamed.

Tsuzuki's front lowered as he watched with wide, fearful eyes. "But- you promised me-"

"I don't _CARE!_ You're a _blight, why are you here?"_

"B-but the spell-!"

Hisoka's bare feet slapped on the floor as he swung off the bed and stood, towering over the shivering dog. He pulled his leg back, and kicked as hard as he could.

The force of his punt sent the dog skidding across the polished floor, where he hit the wall hard. The curtains were jerked down, and the rod they hung from bounced on the tiles.

Hisoka sneered, his anger cooling. He moved to get back into bed when a groan drifted across the quiet room.

The Prince froze. The noise was replayed in his head as he turned, slowly, mechanically.

That had not sounded like a dog.

It had not sounded like a dog with a man's voice.

Hisoka surveyed the shape of the creature beneath the curtain and decided, with some trepidation, that it was much too large to be a dog.

* * *

**I'm sorry I took so long to get this to you. I was fumbling with the original story, and instead of actually thinking about the problem I put it on the figurative shelf :) If you've ever noticed, the female characters in a lot of fairy tales never really have time enough to fall in love xD Or maybe nobody cared. Hisoka doesn't strike me as that type ;)**

**-Oceans**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Now he remembered. Prince Tsuzuki of Tur'smont, who had gone missing after a tangle with a sadistic wizard, years ago.

Staring into hauntingly familiar, Tyrian purple eyes, Hisoka felt sick. The hand that held the edge of the heavy drape over the foreign Prince's head trembled violently. A sudden movement startled him—the Prince stretching out his legs. He dropped the corner and stumbled back. Eyes impossibly wide, Hisoka watched the man wiggle free of the curtains. Holding one hand against his side—where Hisoka's kick landed—Tsuzuki propped himself up on the other, and eyed the other with an unreadable expression.

Hisoka's face burned with shame as he avoided meeting the other's steady stare. His breathing was quick and uneven from fear and lingering adrenaline. Long minutes passed beneath the oppressive silence, but neither spoke. Hisoka thought he would sooner eat his hand than speak first...but it was too much.

"I feel sick." He said, truthfully. His voice quivered like it hadn't since he'd been young.

There was a moment during which Tsuzuki's expression didn't change, where he only continued to watch the Prince with a blank look that Hisoka withered beneath. Then the older Prince sighed, and rose to his feet slowly, as if he wasn't sure of his balance.

Hisoka, licking his lips anxiously, his eyes overly bright, turned his face away.

"Well then, Princeling." The sound of the Tur'smonian royal's voice, so different from the one from years before, but obviously belonging to the same man twisted his stomach.

After a beat, the Prince realized the…_playful_…lilt to the accented words, and he, forgetting himself, looked up. Astonished, Hisoka said, "'Well' what?"

Tsuzuki smiled, friendly as they spoke over a pleasant lunch. "The last part of our bargain? To share your bed with me? I still expect it. This," he smoothed a hand down himself, over the roughspun herdsman's tunic he wore. "doesn't change. Much."

Hisoka blinked, and opened his mouth to say—something—but Tsuzuki only continued to smile as he stepped around him and, for a second time, climbed into the Prince of Kaeira's bed.

Though, as tall as he was in this—his rightful form, he didn't really have to _climb_ anything.

"Come on then. I'm sure you're tired as well." The man's voice was already slowing, thick with exhaustion.

And Hisoka moved, joints stiff, into the bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Steadfastly ignoring the fever-warm heat of the man next to him, he rolled over, and did not fall asleep for hours.

::::

When Hisoka woke the next morning, and the side of the bed where Tsuzuki had slept was cold, the Prince of Tur'smont assumedly long gone.

* * *

**Damn. I pretty up this chapter, and as I'm about to post...I realize that I've already _written_ chapter five! Crap. Shit. Dumb, stupid girl. Oh well, here's a verison that I think is better...(I thought I could do _so _much better for the flashback).**

SSJ4 Sailor Menz**! I'm calling you out. I'm working on this story tonight because of your review appearing in my inbox :) Thanks for giving me something to do this evening while I avoid homework, haha.**

**-Oceans**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Exactly eleven years ago, a five year-old Hisoka was made to attend a gathering hosted by the Madahn'drein royals at the High Place. The memories of the night are unusual, some of the tiniest, most insignificant details clear as spring water to him—while other, more important things completely elude him. For instance, he can't remember what the gathering was actually _for_. From the color of the décor—_orange, the servants had prepared the buffets with orange table clothes—_and the types of flowers in the brackets on the walls—_honeyblossom, Queen Loa's blush_—now Hisoka guesses it was some kind of summer holiday.

He doesn't know why Tatsumi wasn't with him when Prince Tsuzuki found him. He doesn't remember what Tsuzuki, then a lanky nineteen year-old, said to him to coax him out of the corner and the shadows.

The Prince does remember the orange pudding he was given to eat, the little twist of peel that he bit into on accident…The sprig of Queen Loa's that Tsuzuki pushed into the collar of that stuffy velvet suit Tatsumi had dressed him in, despite all his energetic protest. Most vividly he remembers dowsing against the teenager's chest, the gold thread of his fine clothing that scratched at his check a distinctly different sensation from the cool slide of the dusty blue silk, when the night ran late.

Now, sitting with one whole side of his arm pressed comfortably to the glass, green eyes darting as they observed the frenzy of the city below, Hisoka muttered to himself, "That's when Tatsumi found me." _And Tsuzuki left, and I didn't see him again._

The Prince's eyes stole a long, thoughtful glance at his bed before he forcibly turned them back to the window, his cheeks faintly pink.

The Festival of Light was coming soon. It was so close that Madahn'dre's citizen's buzzed with anticipation; the Festival was a time of high spirits and little stress, but Hisoka had never felt so torn. Since he had, mumbling, told Tatsumi, Konoe, and Watari that Tsuzuki the dog had disappeared in the night, a simmering feeling in his midsection had developed. Watching the manservant's face bend in smug angles and Konoe's droop to mirror his disappointment in seeing the animal gone only made it worse.

Hisoka hated lying.

::::

The Festival was due to start in two days when news reached the High Place from their northern neighbors that the King of Tur'smont had, after years of failing health, finally passed. Hisoka had difficulty hiding his true feelings as he attempted to ask, discretely, after news of the 'missing' Prince.

Tatsumi wrinkled his brow in slow uncertainty. "No, nothing." He eventually answered, and resumed reading off Hisoka's duties of that day.

He managed to track Watari down to the kitchens sometime after lunch, and his answer was equally disappointing.

"The Tur'smoni Prince? Hadn't heard anything after him…Why?" the alchemist had responded, distracted, as he attempted to…fish something out of a pot of cheese soup with a long handled, silver ladle Hisoka knew hadn't come from the kitchens. He stomach rolled as he stopped himself from wondering _exactly_ what the man was doing.

"Watch your glasses Watari, they're falling off," He sighed, and turned away.

Ordinarily, Konoe would be his next option, and arguably the most likely to produce a satisfying answer, but Hisoka was weary of the tutor's intuitiveness, and his seemingly infallible ability to read guilt in the young Prince.

So Hisoka forwent the tutor, and his disposition soured.

This, Tatsumi had a problem with.

Scowling, the manservant subtly looked down his nose at him. "You can't be angry during the Festival, Master Hisoka." He said almost testily. "The people will take great offense."

Hisoka grumbled. His arms were sore from holding them out, and he glowered down at the head of the woman who stitched at the robe he wore when she passed into sight.

The Crown Prince (or Princess) of Madahn'dre had the honor of beginning the weeklong Festival towards the end of the season every year. It was a very short ceremony, though that didn't affect its sanctity in the eyes of the people. Annually, Hisoka wore the long robe that he did now, climbed exactly six-hundred and forty-two stairs (he'd counted every year since he was six) to the top of the platform erected only for this day, and spoke a prayer of thanks for another season of fertility, of peace and tranquility, and wished for a prosperous growing season in the Old Tongue. Then he raised his arms above his head, and turned to face the citizens of Madahn'dre and the visitors she welcomed each year. The crowds cheered, and screamed, and each year their noise was absolutely deafening, and with this, Hisoka's part was finished.

Hisoka sighed lightly through his nose, and fixed his eyes on a small mirror across the room. He stared back at himself listlessly.

In a tone he hoped sounded bored, aimless, he asked, "Any news from Tur'smont?"

Tatsumi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he studied the paper on top of the stack in his arm. "Tur'smont? No, Master. Nothing."

The Prince watched his own shoulders slump. "Oh," he said in a small voice.

The seamstress made an irritated noise at his back. "Straight, Highness, stand _straight,_ _please_."

* * *

***beams proudly* I did almost all of this tonight! Yay. And I've got rough ideas forming that are nummy, and will be fun to write. I hope you guys enjoy this update :D**

**-Oceans**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Hisoka snapped awake on the morning of the Festival and, for a moment, lay still, confused. The light in his chambers was…odd, and his sleep-slow brain took its time puzzling out why.

Minutes later, when he finally moved to lift himself up onto his elbows, he understood: the sky through his window was still the gray with early morning.

The Prince blinked once, twice, blearily at the scene beyond the window.

Sighing, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat, Hisoka looked down at his own sprawled hand on the sheets for a long moment. Then he jerked it away as if it burned and scrambled out of the bed he'd shared with a dog-turned-prince.

He groaned as he teetered, dizzy, and managed to stumble to the window. Clumsy fingers took a few tries to properly grasp the latch, but eventually he worked the lock and pushed one of the tall planes of glass open.

The air was damp, and carried an unseasonal chill on its back.

_No._ The thought suddenly pierced the fog that filled Hisoka's skull. _No, summer is ending. Summer is over, tomorrow,_ he said to himself.

Out loud, his throat scratchy, he said, "I can't do this."

Beginning to move more quickly, he dug a plain outfit that he kept for touring the city with Konoe from the back of his wardrobe, dressed, and hurried from his room and down the hall.

When Tatsumi, arguing some obscure point with the long-haired alchemist who followed behind came into the Prince's room a few hours later, he found it empty but for a hastily scrawled note.

::::

After nearly falling victim to one small child's subtle fingers, Hisoka kept his hand firmly in the pocket that rattled with his money. He had been wandering the streets for so long that his breath was catching—he had never been much of an athlete—and his soles ached. The city was wide awake around him, and had been since he'd left the High Place, but he'd shied away from businesses…and other people, until now.

He argued with himself for moment before, with an anxious look around, ducking into a small tavern.

"What can I get for you, boy-o?" Came the harsh tones of the large woman behind the bar.

Hisoka stared at her dumbly before coughing and lowering his eyes submissively. "Ah. Erm. Coffee, please."

The inn mistress gave him a narrow-eyed look, but poured a steaming cup all the same. The young Prince took his drink to a corner towards the back, and curled around it protectively has he sipped.

He'd drained it before the ruckus began.

"Nope, sorry Pup," came the owner's deep bells from the front of the pub. "Nothing for you till you _pay your bloody tab._"

The whining voice that replied was startlingly familiar. Hisoka, his hands wrapped around the empty mug, froze.

"Aaah, c'mon Adelle, I'm good for it, I swear!"

"Ah really now? You're not working, Tsuzuki. I don't see where the money's coming from." There was a dramatic pause. "Nah, wait. I haven't actually seen any _money_...have I, 'most cherished customer'?"

Hisoka could imagine the hangdog look the inn mistress was receiving without even trying.

"B-but…Adellleee…"

"Off with ye, Tsuzuki."

A long, heavy sigh came then. Hisoka fidgeted in his seat and chewed on his bottom lip, and finally worked up the courage to lift his eyes.

It was pure coincidence that when he did so it was to lock gazes with Turs'moni Prince.

Tsuzuki went still, and lines appeared over his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he no doubt tried to place the teenager's features, somewhat out of place in a dingy pub off the main avenue. But it clicked, and Hisoka saw when it did.

He expected anger. He expected distaste. Revulsion, or loathing. He waited to see one of a thousand possible things…and what came was probably what he'd least expected.

Surprise, which was not so surprising, was the first emotion he could confidently read in the Tur'smoni's face. Following it there was a flicker of many different things, or maybe just a few, too quick for him to identify. Then, Tsuzuki's features settled into a comfortable expression of…

…Warmth?

Hisoka stared. Surely, that couldn't be right. He must be getting rusty at this whole, windows-to-the-soul thing.

Tsuzuki crossed the room in long strides, and settled himself comfortably in the chair at Hisoka's side. He smiled brightly, and—as far as the blonde could tell—earnestly.

"Hello, Prince," he said quietly, in a murmur that shocked Hisoka with a lightning-quick shiver along his spine.

He swallowed, eyes widening in something almost like panic, and managed, "h-Hello, Prince Tsuzuki."

The dark-haired man's smiled grew, but then it faltered, and shrunk. He leaned in closer, though, for some reason, Hisoka barely heard what he said next.

"As I understand it Prince, you're supposed to be preparing to take that big stage in the center of town. Why are you all that way here, on Border's Row?"

Hisoka flinched guiltily; he hadn't imagined his wanderings would have taken him_ that_ far from the palace.

Realizing Tsuzuki was still waiting for a reply, he flushed.

"You're being very kind to me," he mumbled.

He was regarded with wide, curious eyes. "There is some reason I shouldn't be?" Tsuzuki asked, genuinely confused.

The older man's mouth stretched into a long, slow smile as Hisoka groped uselessly for his tongue—words—his…brain?

The young Prince gave up with an agitated huff.

Tsuzuki slid his elbow over the table top, nudging Hisoka's arm gently.

"Here? Border's Row? Now?" He prompted, when the touch earned him the Prince's attention.

"I…the…the ceremony." The teenager replied after a long silence in a tiny voice. "I just…can't go through with it."

He waited for Tsuzuki to curse him, to push him. To tell him that he was letting thousands of people down.

Of course, Hisoka should've known already; Tsuzuki never did what was expected of him. The purple-eyed man clapped him companionably on the shoulder and tugged him in tight against his side. He looked down into Hisoka's wide, startled eyes and grinned.

"Come for a walk with me, 'Soka." He asked with a certain softness.

::::

"I can't find him!"

"How do we deal with this? We can't send out the guards-"

"Of course we can! We have to! In the past _century_ of Festivals, there has never been a _no-show royal!"_

"Tatsumi!" Konoe barked. "Watari is right; we cannot let the people—or the King—know that Prince Hisoka has…well…-"

"Ditched us?" Watari suggested.

"….yes. That. We-…." Konoe sighed, and in that moment his age made itself known. "We hope the boy will reappear in time."

Tatsumi adjusted his frames with a nervous energy. The alchemist gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before drifting away, over to where the Prince's note lay.

"At least he had the courtesy to tell us he wasn't kidnapped," He mused, examining the page and it's simple message.

Tatsumi huffed a humorless laugh.

* * *

**...I picked up a Yami no Matsuei volume yesterday for the first time in probably four years, and. Wow. Subtext? Hell no. _Text,_ man.**

**-Oceans**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Konoe's visits into the city with his charge were not intended to satisfy his sweet tooth, nor where they wholly to teach the Prince diplomacy. He prided himself on his knack for hitting two birds with one stone.

Or four birds, or six. He wasn't choosy.

He wanted the Prince to be familiar with his city and his kingdom, as his parents were not. Call him old fashioned, but he believed that a ruler should be in touch with his subjects. It was too much to hope that his Highness would ever know the feeling of Madahn'drein soil spilling between his fingers as well as he did that of silk sheets, but the tutor was nothing if not practical; he would settle for the young lad knowing where all of the good pubs were in the city.

Konoe had been successful in persuading Tatsumi to wait for the boy to reappear, and was privately surprised that he had managed to fake confidence enough to convince him.

He hated to think it, but this whole business with Tsuzuki as of late had revealed to him faults in the Prince's personality that he had not previously been aware of. He wasn't yet completely sure the boy would choose right. Though he nursed a generous flame of hope; he retained a certain amount of faith in his future King.

Konoe had not, however, convinced _himself_ to remain idle as the time of opening ceremony drew nearer, and Hisoka did not return. He passed through the palace gates, smiling easily at the guards, and promised himself he would only look down a few avenues.

::::

Hisoka didn't know what to make of Tsuzuki.

So far the only thing he had decided on concerning the older man, was that he was predictably unpredictable. He walked at Tsuzuki's elbow, listening bemusedly as the Tur'smoni royal maintained a steady stream of idle chatter. He looked when Tsuzuki pointed out the pear-seller who very closely resembled her product, and he laughed when Tsuzuki engaged in a bit of good-natured heckling with an entertainer on the crossing of Morrowill and Sunm.

By the time Hisoka realized Tsuzuki had been bringing them steadily closer to the city square where the ceremony was to take place, it was too late to turn away.

Not to say that he didn't try.

Upon seeing the stage, Hisoka's eye rounded in shock and the slightest bit of betrayal, and he made to run away—but Tsuzuki's hand lashed out, and caught his arm.

Hisoka tugged, though he was aware that it was futile; Tsuzuki's hold wasn't painfully tight, but it was nonetheless firm. He allowed himself to be guided around the side of a shop, and once again pulled close to the Prince's side.

Hisoka briefly saw honeyblossoms and blue and gold finery, but he blinked the vision away defiantly.

For a moment, Tsuzuki silently smoothed a hand through his hair, and eventually Hisoka relaxed. He felt what might be the press of lips against his scalp.

"What are you running from?" Tsuzuki asked, plaintive, his voice soft and almost sounding as if he were in pain.

It was, Hisoka thought, an odd question. _What are you running from._ Not, why are you doing this? Why are you acting like a spoiled child? Why won't you do your duty?  
What are you running from.

Hisoka wondered. He'd never really thought about it himself.

Tsuzuki was content to hold him as he thought, rubbing one hand over his arm, and back and side, mumbling soft things unintelligibly into his hair.

"I don't deserve it." Hisoka said, when he finally decided. He pulled away to peer up at Tsuzuki, almost as if wondering if he'd chosen the right thing. Tsuzuki let him.

The Tur'smoni merely cocked his head quizzically.

"Their…adoration." Hisoka flushed at his choice of words. He knew he sounded arrogant. "Their happiness. I…I'm a spoiled kid. I don't know anything about them, or what they want or how to serve them. I'll make a horrible King."

"Oh, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said sadly, and pulled him back to his chest.

::::

Tatsumi was very close to having a fit.

Hisoka was still away, and Konoe had vanished as well, leaving poor Watari to do his best to soothe the manservant's frazzled nerves.

"Calm, Tatsumi, please!" The alchemist pushed him backwards into a chair and trapped him in place with his arms. "Trust Konoe to know what he's talking about. I'm _sure_ his Highness will turn up in time!"

"I can't leave it up to chance anymore!" Tatsumi struggled. His hair was in disarray, and his cheeks flushed with emotion.

Watari found his disorganized appearance rather striking. The alchemist was struck by a sudden thought and after considering it for a moment, resigned himself to being a cliché.

He swooped down and congratulated himself on so effectively halting Tatsumi's raging.

Or so he thought. For the instant that Watari drew back from the kiss, the manservant blinked at him, his glasses askew on his nose, and began anew.

Watari despaired.

…At least he'd managed to keep him seated.

* * *

**Oh my god. Does anyone _read _this story anymore? I'm so sorry guys! D:**

**-Oceans**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Konoe circled back to the main square, fighting despair. He hadn't been able to find Hisoka, not even the merest hint of him, and it was nearly time for the ceremony. There were only minutes left, and…and…

The old tutor squinted against the light of the setting sun, a sudden flash of dark clothe having attracted his eye.

It was…it _was _Hisoka!

Konoe grinned wildly.

"I knew it," he told the man beside him happily, and ignored the resulting look of confusion as he pushed closer to the stage.

"Good boy," he said beneath his breath, glowing with pride for his city's Prince. "Good boy. Good King."

::::

Hisoka conducted the ceremony. He lifted his arms skyward, aware of the chill in the air which told of the changing season. He spoke the words, and made sure that his robe swished impressively around his, if he were honest, uninspiring figure.

He felt as if he stood beneath the spirit of Madahn'dre herself. The thousands of thousands of eyes fixed on him instead of weighing on his body, like his father's, or his mother's, lightened him.

Hisoka was baffled, but privately thankful.

The ceremony ended just as the sun began to sink, right on schedule. The people howled and surged from the bazaar into the major avenues, where vendors were ready with floral neck-wreaths and sunshine charms and food and drink. Hisoka began the long climb down from the platform, but was stopped little more than halfway by Tsuzuki.

Hisoka offered him a smile; one that was small, but genuine. He hoped the Turs'moni would recognize exactly how valuable a gift it was, and for a long moment he worried that the message hadn't made it through.

He needn't have.

Tsuzuki smiled back, his eyes warm as bath water, as hot cinder, and Hisoka felt his innards melt. His breath caught when Tsuzuki pulled him gently closer, and moved to bring their faces together.

He couldn't _breathe_. There was something wrong about that. But Tsuzuki's mouth was _soft_ and so welcoming, like the man himself. Hisoka's fingers clung to the other man's clothing, and he barely suppressed a needy whine. He babbled.

"I'm so sorry, I was horrible to you, I should have kept my word. I should have made a promise I intended to keep, I'm horrible, Tsuzuki. _Please,_ Tsuzuki…"

Tsuzuki made soothing noises, hushing him as he dropped breathy, lingering kisses to his eyes and face.

"All is forgiven, all is good. Just breathe, Hiskoa."

::::

Watari cocked his head towards the window, from which crowd-noises steadily poured. He smiled, smug, at Tatsumi.

"See? I told you everything would sort itself out." He beamed.

Exhausted from his long, stubborn struggle, Tatsumi merely glared balefully at him.

* * *

**Aargh, god. What is it about Tsuzuki/Hisoka that makes it nearly freaking impossible to write anything _but _angsty-fluff? Honestly.**

**New chapter, guys :) Sorry if all of the cotton-candy kissies gave anybody cavities! ****Next update will probably be an epilogue type thing :) Whoo, almost finished!**

**-Ocean**


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilouge**

Turs'moni's long missing Prince reappeared not long after the deceased King was buried. The process of succession was begun not long after the funeral rites, confusing the country's citizenship so thoroughly that surrounding lands chortled at their expense. They struggled to find ground between mourning and celebration.

Hisoka succeeded his father and became the ninety-sixth Madahn'drein King. Within weeks, a treaty with Turs'mont was formed that would endure to the time when both kingdoms ceased to exist. The royals of either visited frequently, and were good friends for the whole of their lives. This was the image that Hisoka and King Tsuzuki cultivated, at least. Friends was certainly _part_ of what they were to each other.

King Hisoka did not marry, but pursued a change to the laws to allow for children not possessing of royal blood to inherit. Once the courts relented to the change, Hisoka claimed two children whose home and family had been lost in a fire: twin girls, named Saya and Yuma.

Konoe was kept on as the girls' tutor, and as King Hisoka's advisor. When he finally passed of old age, when the girls were grown and ruling as one body, the servants came to believe his ghost still haunted the palace and market streets of the city outside. His moanings of "I'm too old for this," a mantra he had been known for in life, was said to be audible in the corners of the High Place and—if one listened hard enough—whenever one of the Queens giggled. Or both of them simultaneously, as was more often so.

King Tsuzuki bequeathed his kingdom to the younger sister that had been born during his time away early in his rule, and shortly after the completion of various ceremonies and all of the document-signing, he absconded away.

There are rumors of sightings in the capital city of Madahn'dre, but no truth was ever seen of them. Despite that, the Princesses Saya and Yuma enjoyed a pair of fathers.

Tatsumi and Watari never left the High Place. Their dynamic did not change either; they were often heard squabbling and bickering. The only significant difference was that when they retired to their quarters for the night, the arguing continued—as they had come to share a set of rooms.

Suffice to say, everyone lived happily ever after.

* * *

**And then Saya and Yuma blew everybody up. The end.**

**Thanks for reading everyone! I apologize again for my sporadic update-rate, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your patience :)**

**-Oceans**


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